#AmericanWriters
868 They ask but our Delight— The Darlings of the Soil And grant us all their Countenanc… For a penurious smile.
104 Where I have lost, I softer tread… I sow sweet flower from garden bed… I pause above that vanished head And mourn.
871 The Sun and Moon must make their… The Stars express around For in the Zones of Paradise The Lord alone is burned—
798 She staked her Feathers—Gained an… Debated—Rose again— This time—beyond the estimate Of Envy, or of Men—
329 So glad we are’—a Stranger’d deem ’Twas sorry, that we were’— For where the Holiday should be There publishes a Tear’—
453 Love—thou art high— I cannot climb thee— But, were it Two— Who know but we—
A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew
15 The Guest is gold and crimson— An Opal guest and gray— Of Ermine is his doublet— His Capuchin gay—
XLVIII THOUGH I get home how late, how… So I get home, ’t will compensate… Better will be the ecstasy That they have done expecting me,
403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—
14 One Sister have I in our house, And one, a hedge away. There’s only one recorded, But both belong to me.
A little road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly. If town it have, beyond itself,
296 One Year ago’—jots what? God’—spell the word! I’—can’t’— Was’t Grace? Not that’— Was’t Glory? That’—will do’—
204 I’ll tell you how the Sun rose— A Ribbon at a time— The Steeples swam in Amethyst— The news, like Squirrels, ran—
454 It was given to me by the Gods— When I was a little Girl— They given us Presents most—you k… When we are new—and small.